


Self Love

by Otrera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotions, Hand Jobs, Idk what happened, Kissing, M/M, Time Travel, this is like 1/3 porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:51:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otrera/pseuds/Otrera
Summary: Sam meets Season1!Sam and things happen.





	Self Love

Being near them was weird. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror. Other Dean looked mostly the same as he did in Sam’s time, except with fewer cocky smiles and heavier bags under his eyes, but he was so unlike Sam’s Dean. His voice was deeper, and he just seemed so tired all the time. Not the kind of tired that meant you’d had a shitty night’s sleep, but the kind of world-weary tired that meant you’d seen too much.

Other Sam had the same kind of tiredness, but unlike Other Dean, he didn’t look anything like he did in Sam’s time. He had no bangs, his hair was longer (how did he get Dean to stop teasing him about that?), his face wasn’t as round as Sam’s was. He was a lot quieter than Sam, too.

It shouldn’t have felt weird to hang around Other Sam. They were the same person, after all, but maybe that was what made it so weird in the first place. There was no way to hide anything from Other Sam. He knew everything about him without having to ask anything. It was more than a little disconcerting. It was better than hanging out with Other Dean, though, who kept looking at him with sad, sad eyes, like he was grieving him.

Other Sam didn’t seem to mind him. He mostly acted like Sam wasn’t there unless Sam asked a question or proposed an idea on how to get back to his own time. It wasn’t the rude kind of ignoring like Dean did to Sam when they were kids and he thought Sam was being annoying. It was more like he got so deep in his research that he forgot  _ anything _ existed. Sam did that a lot, too. Which made sense. They were the same person. But sometimes, Other Sam looked at him with the same sad, sad eyes as Other Dean. One evening, when Other Sam was staring at him with grieving eyes, Sam couldn’t stand it anymore.

“We never get out, do we?”

Other Sam startled. “What?”

Sam met his eyes. “We don’t ever get out. Of the life.”

Other Sam chewed his bottom lip. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “Time travel, paradoxes, something will get messed up.”

“Probably not. You don’t ever remember meeting an older version of you and Dean when you were my age, do you?”

Other Sam shook his head.

“See? We’re probably not even from the same timeline. This is more like the multiverse theory.” He unconsciously mirrored Other Sam and chewed his lip. “So do we?”

Other Sam closed his book and stared at the cover like he was seeing a different story. “No. We don’t.”

“Is it awful?”

Other Sam closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Please don’t ask me that.” It sounded like a plea for mercy.

“Why not?” Irrationally, Sam was angry at Other Sam. “It’s my life too! I deserve to know!”

“Well maybe it’s not!”

Sam jumped. In all his time in the bunker, he hadn’t once heard Other Sam raise his voice.

Other Sam pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “Maybe you’re right, and the multiverse theory is right. If it is, that means you still have a chance! A chance to change things! You don’t have to break the world. We could finally be n-”

Other Sam abruptly cut himself off, and without so much as an  _ excuse me _ , he marched off to his bedroom. Sam heard his door slam all the way from the library.

It was only a few seconds before Other Dean’s footsteps approached the library. “Dude, what the hell did you do?”

“Nothing,” grumbled Sam. “I’m going to be in my room.” His room that wasn’t actually his. The room that was right across from Other Sam’s.

God.

He slammed his door as hard as possible, pleased when it was louder than when Other Sam did it. He threw himself on the bed and stuffed his face in his pillow and fumed. He listed off every single thing that was wrong with this situation, starting with the fact that had been in the wrong time for four days and Dean was probably freaking out and ending with the fact that he was in an argument with himself.

Sometime during all his fuming, he must have fallen asleep, because he woke up on his back instead of his stomach and with a blanket covering him. His door was open. The lights were off in the hallway.

He shoved the blanket off and padded down the black hallway. There was a faint light coming from the library. Sam peeked inside. Other Sam was sitting at the same table he’d been sitting at before, reading a thick book by lamplight.

Sam stood half in and half out of the library for a few minutes, just watching Other Sam. He recognized the book he was reading as one of the books in a large stack Other Sam and Other Dean said might hold an answer on how to get Sam back to the right time and place. Guilt gnawed at Sam’s stomach. He’d been such a dick to Other Sam earlier, but he was still trying to help him. He was probably the one who put a blanket on him, too.

Sam cleared his throat and stepped into the library. “Hey.”

Other Sam looked up from his book. “Hey,” he said. Paused. “What are you doing up?”

“Wasn’t tired anymore.” He approached the table and stood by Other Sam’s shoulder. It was weird being taller than him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Other Sam beat him to it.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Other Sam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about how I acted earlier. You’re right, it’s your life too, and you have a right to know.”

“Oh.” Sam chuckled a little. “I was going to apologize for trying to force you to talk about… stuff you don’t want to talk about.”

Other Sam not-laughed and passed a hand over his eyes. “We really are the same person.” He pushed his hair out of his face. “It’s fine. I just… I don’t talk about feelings a lot. I don’t really have anyone to talk about it with. I mean there’s Dean, but I don’t…” Other Sam sighed. “I don’t want to burden him with my problems all the time.”

Sam nodded slowly. He understood where Other Sam was coming from. Dean would listen if Sam wanted him to, but Sam always felt guilty when he weighed him down like that. He had enough problems of his own. He didn’t need to deal with Sam’s.

“If you need to talk to somebody… I’m always here,” he offered. “Well, hopefully not always, but until we find a way to get me back.”

Other Sam smiled gently. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Just… promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Take care of yourself. Always watch your own back - literally. Because if you don’t,” Other Sam took a shuddering breath, “Dean will go to hell.”

Sam made a horrified noise and took a step back. “Dean - Dean dies?”

Other Sam stood up and grabbed Sam by the biceps. “Only if you die first. You can’t let that happen.” He shook Sam a little. “You can’t let us die. You can’t let Dean go to hell.”

Sam nodded numbly. “I won't.”

Other Sam stared at him with a look on his face like he was drowning in pure anguish, and without any warning, he let go of Sam's arms and embraced him. He held Sam like he was a child, with one large palm pushing Sam's head against his shoulder and the other resting flat on his back. Sam's arms rose of their own volition to wrap around Other Sam's waist and hug him back.

“You're safe,” he mumbled into Other Sam's chest, and he wasn't sure if he was talking to himself, or, well, himself, but it sounded nice, even if it maybe wasn't completely true. Maybe he was reminding himself that his Dean wasn't dead yet. Maybe he was telling Other Sam that nothing bad was happening right that moment.

He did feel safe, though, being held by Other Sam. Like he was an impenetrable barrier protecting him from the world. It was comparable to the rare occasions when Dean broke his own rule of no chick-flick moments and hugged him.

Other Sam was really warm. It was something Sam’s lovers always commented on, how hot he ran. Some of them didn’t like it, but Sam always loved it when he could feel the heat of his lover’s body against his own. And maybe comparing Other Sam to his lovers was weird, but somehow it made sense.

Sam tilted his head up so his chin was resting against Other Sam’s chest and he was looking at his face. God, how were they the same person? Other Sam was so… adult. He had none of the baby-soft curves of Sam’s own face. He wasn’t envious of all the stress lines in Other Sam’s face, though.

Other Sam’s hand had moved to the nape of Sam’s neck and was massaging gently. His eyes were closed. His lips were only slightly open. Sam was a little fascinated by the way they parted every time he exhaled.

Sam tilted up on his tip-toes and kissed him.

Other Sam froze. Neither of them moved except to breath. Other Sam’s breath permeated Sam’s mouth; he tasted like toothpaste.

Sam dropped back down to stand flat on his feet and watched Other Sam’s face. His eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth turned down in a small frown, but he looked more confused than upset. His hand still rested on the back of Sam’s neck.

“Sam?” he whispered. (They never called each other by their first name. It was too bizarre.)

“Yeah?”

Other Sam leaned down and kissed him. His lips really were extremely soft; Sam wondered distractedly if he used lip balm more often than he used too. Other Sam ran the tip of his tongue over Sam’s bottom lip and Sam moaned  _ embarrassingly _ loudly. He felt more than heard Other Sam laugh at the heat that flushed Sam’s skin pink.

Other Sam moved his lips from Sam’s lips to Sam’s jawline, placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up it until he reached the pulse point behind Sam’s ear. Sam made some kind of incomprehensible noise and tipped his head back, panting hard under Other Sam’s ministrations.

Then, without warning, Other Sam spun Sam around and lifted him onto the table. He shoved Sam’s knees apart and stood between them, pressing their groins together. Other Sam thrust his hips forward.

“Oh!” Sam gasped. Other Sam’s dick was very prominent in his jeans. Sam’s whole body blushed at the feeling of it against his own.

Other Sam left one hand on Sam’s hip to steady him and snaked the other down between their bodies to rub Sam through his pants. Sam bit his lip and pushed his hips toward Other Sam’s hand as best he could, silently begging for more friction.

Other Sam unzipped Sam’s fly and fumbled with the button then pulled Sam’s dick out of his underwear. Sam crashed his forehead into Other Sam’s shoulder and whimpered. Other Sam wrapped his hand around him (god his hands were so big) and stroked him hard and fast. Sam moved his hips frantically, zipper teeth scratching slightly at the base of his dick.

“ _ Sam _ ,” he keened, and came all over Other Sam’s hand.

Other Sam held him close while he orgasmed, stroking the small of his back in time with his cock. Sam held himself up by Other Sam’s shoulders and snugged his head in Other Sam’s neck. His breath was hot against Other Sam’s skin.

“You okay?” Other Sam murmured.

“Mmm,” Sam grunted. He closed his eyes.

Other Sam huffed a laugh. He rested his chin on top of Sam’s head and pressed a kiss against his sweaty hair.

Sam leaned back. “You didn’t, uh…”

Other Sam shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“No, that’s not fair,” said Sam. “Let me make you feel good too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He pushed Other Sam backward so he could get off the table and on his knees. He undid Other Sam’s pants and pulled out his cock. It felt larger than it looked, for which Sam was a little relieved. He licked the tip. Other Sam inhaled sharply.

Sam took the tip into his mouth, being careful to cover his teeth. Sam bobbed his head (a little clumsily) up and down Other Sam’s dick, rubbing his tongue on the vein underneath. He brought his hand up to stroke what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Other Sam shuddered and put his hands on the back of Sam’s head - not pushing, just resting, anchoring himself. The taste of skin wasn’t entirely appealing, but it was definitely better than latex. Sam wondered in the back of his mind if condoms were necessary when you gave yourself a blowjob.

“Sam -  _ Sam  _ \- I’m gonna - you gotta -”

Sam took his mouth off Other Sam right before he came. Come splattered all over his chin and neck. Other Sam moaned at the sight of it. He scooped some of it up on his fingers, and Sam licked it off them one by one.

“God,” Other Sam murmured. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He helped Sam up off the floor and tucked his cock back into his pants. Sam’s own cock was still hanging out of the front of his jeans. He put himself away, blushing the whole time. Jesus, he’d just given himself a blowjob.

Other Sam was equally flushed. “That was - uh, it was good. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “You too.” He rocked backwards on his heels. “So… should we… talk about this?”

“Do we need to?”

Sam considered. “I dunno. Maybe. If it ends up that I’m going to be here for a long time.”

Other Sam nodded. “Right. Okay.”

Sam scratched the back of his head and stared at the wooden floorboards under his feet. “If… you want to, I dunno, if you wanna do this again…” He met Other Sam’s eyes. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Other Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Really.”

Other Sam nodded again and ran his hand through his hair. “That’s - good to know.”

His lips quirked up in a little smile, and Sam knew he was in for a wild fucking ride.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest (completed) work I've ever written, and I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoyed it enough to comment. I'm otrera-kicks-ass on tumblr.


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